


Are you wearing it?

by NixxieFic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Hint of BDSM, Incest, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mature rated because of incest, Mycroft Feels, Secret Relationship, Sherlock Feels, content is PG, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:43:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1423885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixxieFic/pseuds/NixxieFic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft's reasons for not going to John's wedding were rather more complex than usual. Mostly because if he had gone he'd never have been able to dance with his lover as he wanted to, or snuggle up behind him whilst he watched the happy couple have their first dance together, or held his hand and squeezed it whilst they said 'I do' to each other... This is because Mycroft's lover is his brother, Sherlock.<br/>So he gives Sherlock a gift to wear which tells him exactly how hard it has been for Mycroft to stay at home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are you wearing it?

**Author's Note:**

> Mycroft is Sherlock's Master, whom he calls Sir. Sherlock is his Boy. Only mild bdsm connotations throughout though.

  
  


"Are you wearing it?"

"Of course, I'm wearing it, Mycroft. I told you I would."

"Exactly as I said."

"Yes... exactly how you said. The chain is threaded through the third button from the end, the drop of the chain can clearly be seen even with my jacket closed... just as you asked."

"Asked, Brother dear?"

"Fine, ordered, then."

"Hmm... hardly the way to address me when we're talking about this matter, Sherlock."

"I can't Mycroft! I'm in public. There are... guest... wedding... people all around me."

"Then go someplace less public, Brother dear."

Sherlock muttered under his breath, and slipped out of the end door, finding himself in a service corridor. Nobody scuttling about with dinner plates quite yet. "Fine."

"Sherlock..."

"Fine... Sir." Still sounding slightly petulant, emotions taking over quickly "I'm wearing it just as you ordered. Sir." The last word came out more breathy than Sherlock really wanted it to - the thought that anyone could over hear him still present in his mind.

"Much better... Boy." Mycroft's face became softer at the word, knowing there was danger of Sherlock getting caught only made the entire situation better. "and you haven't opened it yet?"

"No, Sir. I've... I've been good. I just wish..." Sherlock admitted, his feet shifting around as they often did whilst he was on the phone.

"You know full well I cannot be there, Sherlock. And certainly not in the way you've been fantasising about. You know very much that we never can be in public together. And never will. You've known that from the start."

"It doesn't make it any easier though, Mycroft. Sir. I so want you to be here. Be in your arms for the first dance. I always did like to dance with you... remember?"

"I remember fully well, Boy. But please can we get off this morbid topic. The public will never agree with us. And that's that." Mycroft's tone saying quite clearly that this topic of conversation was over, he changed track quickly, hoping to get Sherlock into a better mood.

"Now... pull it out of your pocket, Boy."

"Yes Sir." Sherlock sighs out, holding his phone in place with his shoulder and taking the golden fob watch from his waistcoat pocket carefully. He is always so careful with the things that Mycroft gives him, always treats them with such love. "I've got it out, now. It's beautiful. Did I tell you that, yet?"

"You have now, Boy. And that's all that matters." That's all that Mycroft will ever think that matters - that Sherlock loves the things he bestows upon him. All things. "Click it open for me."

Sherlock suits words to action, holding his phone in his right hand, the watch in his left, and pushes the small button on the top. The lid flips open with a barely audible snick. Sherlock sees that there is an inscription on the inside of the lid.

"Read it out for me, Love." A word Mycroft doesn't use often - thinking he'll wear it out if it gets said too many times.

" _In commemoration of this day. If only it could be ours. M_ "

"Oh, Mycroft. ...Mycroft." His name sounding like a benediction from Sherlock's lips.

Mycroft could almost see them, pink, luscious lips. Just wet. stunning. Not morally right, in any sense of the word - but still 100% His.


End file.
